


C'mon Sammy, Do It

by Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Play, Blow Jobs, Knife Play, M/M, Topping from the Bottom, fear kink, slightly sub Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:36:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor/pseuds/Sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's always had a thing for blades. He especially loves it when Sam presses the edge right up against his skin as he tries not to buck into the touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	C'mon Sammy, Do It

**Author's Note:**

> Teaser: 
> 
> “C’mon Sammy, do it,” Dean orders, like he’s not the one with a knife to his throat. Sam readjusts his grip on the hilt, nervous about the sharp edge so close to his brother’s skin.
> 
> “Hold still, De,” he says. He knows Dean loves this – loves the knife, the feel of the cold steel sharp against his vulnerable skin. And Sam knows that Dean will never push it too far, won’t let Sam actually hurt him. But the anxiety still jangles across his skin, mixing oddly with the arousal at seeing Dean so hard, so eager.

“C’mon Sammy, do it,” Dean orders, like he’s not the one with a knife to his throat. Sam readjusts his grip on the hilt, nervous about the sharp edge so close to his brother’s skin.

“Hold still, De,” he says. He knows Dean loves this – loves the knife, the feel of the cold steel sharp against his vulnerable skin. And Sam knows that Dean will never push it too far, won’t let Sam actually hurt him. But the anxiety still jangles across his skin, mixing oddly with the arousal at seeing Dean so hard, so eager.

Dean pushes forward against the blade and it slices easily into his throat, just barely opening the skin – not even a paper cut, really – but it starts to bleed. A thin trickle of red traces down past his racing pulse.

“Oops,” Dean says, a filthy grin on his face. His tongue flits out to wet his lips, drawing his bottom one back in to his teeth. He bites it at the burning pleasure of the small cut.

“Damnit, Dean,” Sam scolds, flexing his grip again. Dean backs off just slightly, smirk not apologetic at all.

“Maybe I better take that big knife back, baby boy,” Dean says, tone teasing. “You  might not be ready to handle it just yet.” Sam growls and slams his older brother back into the wall. He places a forearm against Dean’s throat and holds him still with the pressure and by thrusting a leg between Dean’s thighs. He can feel how hard the older man is, feel him begin to rut against the top of his leg.

“Maybe you better shut the fuck up.” Sam aims for rough and in control, but he can still hear the edge of nervousness in his voice. The knife is now firm in his grip as he brings it up, ever so carefully, to place the flat of the blade against Dean’s cheek. The tip is at the edge of Dean’s eyes, and Sam watches as the iris slowly consumes the deep green pupil. Dean watches the blade dance in his peripheral vision as he gasps small breaths past the hold Sam has against his throat.

Dean’s face is growing red and splotchy, and Sam lets up just slightly. The sudden rush of air into Dean’s lungs makes his chest arc up, away from the wall and he presses his hard cock against Sam, riding his Sasquatch of a little brother’s broad thigh.

“Atta boy, Sammy,” he says with praise, hands loose against his sides. Sam drags the blade down Dean’s face, being careful not to actually slice into the soft skin over his sharp cheekbones. He drags it down past the cut on his neck. The well-sharpened knife easily cuts through the collar of Dean’s t-shirt and Sam pulls away enough to grab both edges and rip the garment in two.

“You’re making me all tingly, baby boy,” Dean mocks, his breath hitching when Sam brings the knife back up and puts the point right at the edge of his left collarbone. Putting his free hand on Dean’s right shoulder, Sam begins to press down, using more and more pressure. If Dean doesn’t move, the knife will surely puncture his skin.

“Dean,” Sam warns, part aroused, part scared. The power of the knife in his hands is amazing, yet terrifying when he thinks how easily he could harm his brother with it. The trust Dean has in him not to – to not slip – that is also amazing and terrifying. Knowing how much Dean gets off on it – off seeing his brother overcome his nerves, his fear, to bring him pleasure – that just adds to Sam’s arousal. He meets Dean’s eyes, watches as the older man makes his decision. He’s not looking at the knife, but he knows the instant it pierces through the skin – can see it in the way Dean sucks in a breath and closes his eyes.

Sam moves the knife over and begins pressing again. They do this three times, the final small puncture happening at the base of Dean’s throat before he slowly starts to sink to his knees. When he’s finally situated, hands calmly resting on his thighs, framing the bulge under his zipper, Sam takes the hand holding the knife and wipes his thumb through the several small rivulets of blood tracing down Dean’s body.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean whispers as Sam brings his thumb up and paints Dean’s plump lips glossy red before forcing it inside his mouth. The knife tip once again dances in Dean’s vision as he sucks at Sam’s thumb, holding it with his tongue to the roof of his mouth and biting at the first knuckle. He shivers when the dull edge of the blade bumps his nose.

Sam pulls himself away and places the flat of the blade just under Dean’s jaw, the sharp edge right up against his exposed throat. Dean swallows and Sam can feel the bare bump it causes in his hand. Using his free hand, Sam quickly unbuttons his jeans and pulls his cock out and strokes himself. Dean tries to lean forward to taste, but Sam grits his teeth and holds the blade firm. If Dean moves more, he’ll cut himself.

“You’re going to stay right there,” Sam says, again trying to make his voice as inflexible and firm as the knife he holds to his big brother’s throat, “and take it.” Sam shuffles forward just enough to rub the leaking head against Dean’s bloody lips. “And remember,” he adds, flexing his grip on the knife and holding it firm, “if I feel teeth…” he presses the knife threateningly against the tender flesh.

Dean grins with bloody teeth and opens his mouth wide for Sam to feed him his cock.

 

END


End file.
